When I was young as you, sir! and not so smart, perhaps,
For me she mitten'd a lawyer, and several other chaps;
And all of 'em was fluster'd, and fairly taken down,
And for a time I was counted the luckiest man in town.

Once, when I had a fever-I won't forget it soon

I was hot as a basted turkey and crazy as a loon-
Never an hour went by me when she was out of sight;
She nursed me true and tender, and stuck to me day and
night.

And if ever a house was tidy, and ever a kitchen clean,
Her house and kitchen was tidy as any I ever seen,
And I don't complain of Betsy or any of her acts,
Exceptin' when we've quarrel'd, and told each other facts.
So draw up the paper, lawyer! and I'll go home to-night,
And read the agreement to her and see if it's all right;
And then in the mornin' I'll sell to a tradin' man I know-
And kiss the child that was left to us, and out in the world

I'll go.

And one thing put in the paper, that first to me didn't

occur;

That when I am dead at last she will bring me back to her,
And lay me under the maple we planted years ago,
When she and I was happy, before we quarrel'd so.

And when she dies, I wish that she would be laid by me;
And lyin' together in silence, perhaps we'll then agree;
And if ever we meet in heaven, I wouldn't think it queer
If we loved each other the better because we've quarrel'd
here.

HOW BETSY AND I MADE UP.

GIVE us your hand, Mr. Lawyer! how do you do to-day?
You drew up that paper-I s'pose you want your pay,
Don't cut down your figures; make it an X or a V;
For that 'ere written agreement was just the makin' of me.
Goin' home that evenin' I tell you I was blue,

Thinkin' of all my troubles, and what I was goin' to do;

And if

my hosses hadn't been the steadiest team alive, They'd 've tipp'd me over, certain, for I couldn't see where

to drive.

No-for I was labourin' under a heavy load;

No-for I was travelin' an entirely different road;
For I was a-tracin' over the path of our lives ag'in,
And seein' where we miss'd the way, and where we might
have been.

And many a corner we'd turn'd that just to a quarrel led, When I ought to 've held my temper, and driven straight

ahead;

And the more I thought it over the more these memories

came,

And the more I struck the opinion that I was the most to blame.

And things I had long forgotten kept risin' in my mind, Cf little matters betwixt us, where Betsy was good and

kind;

And these things they flash'd all through me, as you know things sometimes will,

When a feller's alone in the darkness, and every thing is still.

66 But "

track,

says

"we're too far along to take another

And when I put my hand to the plow I do not oft turn

back;

And 'tain't an uncommon thing now for couples to smash

And so I set my teeth together, and vow'd I'd see it through.

When I came in sight o' the house 'twas some'at in the night,

And just as I turn'd a hill-top I see the kitchen light; Which often a han'some pictur' to a hungry person makes, But it don't interest a feller much that's goin' to pull up stakes.

And when I went in the house the table was set for meAs good a supper 's I ever saw, or ever want to see ;

And I cramm'd the agreement down in my pocket as well as I could,

And fell to eatin' my victuals, which somehow didn't taste good.

And Betsy she pretended to look about the house,

But she watch'd my side coat-pocket like a cat would watch a mouse;

And then she went to foolin' a little with her cup,
And intently readin' a newspaper, a-holdin' it

up.

wrong side

And when I'd done my supper I draw'd the agreement out,

An' give it to her without a word, for she know'd what 'twas about,

And then I humm'd a little tune, but now and then a note Was bu'sted by some animal that hopp'd up in my throat.

Then Betsy she got her specks from off the mantel-shelf,
And read the article over quite softly to herself;
Read it by little and little, for her eyes is gettin' old,
And lawyers' writin' ain't no print, especially when it's
cold.

And after she'd read a little she give my arm a touch,
And kindly said she was afraid I was 'lowin' her too much;
But when she was through she went for me, her face a-
streamin' with tears,

And kiss'd me for the first time in over twenty years.

I don't know what you'll think, Sir!—I didn't come to inquire

But I pick'd up that agreement and stuff'd it in the fire ; And I told her we'd bury the hatchet alongside of the

cow;

And we struck an agreement never to have another row.

And I told her in the future I wouldn't speak cross or rash If half the crockery in the house was broken all to smash; And she said in regard to heaven, we'd try and learn its worth

By startin' a branch establishment and runnin' it here on earth.

And so we sat a-talkin' three-quarters of the night;

And open'd our hearts to each other until they both grew light;

And the days when I was winnin' her away from so many

men

Was nothin' to that evenin' I courted her over again.

Next mornin' an ancient virgin took pains to call on us,
Her lamp all trimm'd and a-burnin' to kindle another fuss;
But when she went to pryin' and openin' of old sores,
My Betsy rose politely, and show'd her out-of-doors.

Since then I don't deny but there's been a word or two;
But we've got our eyes wide open, and know just what to

do;

When one speaks cross the other just meets it with a langh,

And the first one's ready to give up considerable more than half.

Maybe you'll think me soft, Sir! a-talking in this style, But somehow it does me lots of good to tell it once in a while;

And I do it for a compliment-'tis so that you can see That that there written agreement of yours was just the makin' of me.

So make out your bill, Mr. Lawyer! don't stop short of an X;

Make it more if you want to, for I have got the checks; I'm richer than a National Bank, with all its treasures told,

For I've got a wife at home now that's worth her weight in gold.

F. F. VICTOR.

NEVADA.

SPHINX! down whose rugged face
The sliding centuries their furrows cleave
By sun and frost and cloud-burst, scarce to leave
Perceptible a trace

Of age or sorrow,

Faint hints of yesterdays with no to-morrow,-
My mind regards thee with a questioning eye,
To know thy secret high.

If Theban mystery,

With head of woman, soaring bird-like wings,
And serpent's tail on lion's trunk, were things
Puzzling in history;

And men invented

For it an origin which represented
Chimera and a monster double-headed,
By myths Phenician wedded,—

Their issue being this

This most chimerical and wondrous thing

From whose dumb mouth not even the gods could wring Truth, nor antithesis,—

Then, what I think is,

This creature—being chief among men's sphinxes—
Is eloquent, and overflows with story,

Beside thy silence hoary!

Nevada desert, waste,
Mighty, and inhospitable, and stern,
Hiding a meaning over which we yearn
In eager panting haste,-
Grasping and losing,

Still being deluded ever by our choosing,-
Answer us, Sphinx! what is thy meaning double
But endless toil and trouble?